


King Again (The One where Akashi is Discussed)

by JulesD (julesdrenages)



Series: Stay [4]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:02:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1735457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julesdrenages/pseuds/JulesD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shintarou’s listening to the sound of the rain when Kazunari, without stopping drawing imaginary circles on his wide palm, breaks the silence:</p>
<p>-	Tell me about Akashi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King Again (The One where Akashi is Discussed)

**Author's Note:**

> . Please, do consider that geography here is completely made up. But since the location of Takao and Midorima's apartment is completely made up too, perhaps the inconsistency isn't too bad.

They’ve been months into their relationship when Kazunari brings up the topic for the first time. It’s been enough for them to understand just how serious they are about the whole ‘being together’ thing and this is something that needs to be discussed. It’s a subject that comes out every now and then, and some days it hangs above them, heavy and sharp like a sword.

It’s a cold, rainy afternoon (so much for being at the verge of summer) when Kazunari speaks, a rare day off for both of them, plans of pic-nic and perhaps a little trip ruined by the thunderstorm. It suits the topic, in a sense. They take a nap together on their bed, lay there side by side even after waking up and just enjoy each other’s company as much as they can: jostling two extremely busy schedules is not an easy task and none of them likes to think what would have happened to their relationship if they had not, indeed, chosen to share that small apartment.

Shintarou’s listening to the sound of the rain when Kazunari, without stopping drawing imaginary circles on his wide palm, breaks the silence:

-          Tell me about Akashi.

Shintarou’s lazy frown covers his surprise well.

Kazunari’s not looking at him. It’s no secret that, of all of Shintarou’s former teammates, he likes Akashi the least: it shows in the way he spits his name (the rare times he’s forced to pronounce it in the first place), the loud silence that comes from him every time Akashi’s mentioned in a conversation, the distance he puts between himself and Shintarou whenever he knows the latter is in contact with his old friend, being it for a quick chat on the phone or an online game of shogi. They’ve clashed over this a few times already, and Shintarou’s not sure where such a discussione could bring them, but he quickly decides to take it as a peace offering and a chance to make things clear once for all, so instead of going defensive with questionable “why?”s, he simply asks back:

-          What do you want to know?

Kazunari takes a breath, as if his plan just backfired. He twirls Shintarou’s fingers in his own for some seconds before he lifts his gaze and looks at Shintarou’s eyes:

-          I want to understand…

It’s a bit of a low blow, because Shintarou’s line to end their arguments on the matter is usually “You wouldn’t understand”, but they both know he doesn’t say it with a condescending tone or an arrogant attitude: it almost pains him to say it and it’s the absolute truth – Kazunari wouldn’t understand. That’s why he wants to fix that, now.

Shintarou stays silent for a while, ordering his thoughts, probably, and when he speaks he looks blankly at his hand on the mattress, eyes focused on something else entirely.

-          Akashi has always been a… charismatic person. Not in the way you witnessed that time a tour first Winter Cup, that was… out of hand. But he had this elegant aura around him, people gravitated towards him naturally: he had the power to grab your attention whenever he appeared in a room or opened his mouth, and since he was clever and attractive and awfully well mannered, people were smitten with him, and I was no exception. He had all the qualities I respected: he was composed, polite, silent, serious, thoughtful towards the others and despite every pretense on the contrary, he worked hard as well. He was observant and knew how to read people. He was the one talking to me first, it happened during practice: something about my way of shooting, and how interesting or potentially powerful my technique was. I just thanked him and he smiled. And that was it, I guess: we clicked.

Kazunari looks at him with a slight frown on his face, like he’s struggling to comprehend and stay objective as he listens, or as it hurts him to do so.

-          Do you remember what I told you about me entering Teikou? How I was already used to people keeping their distance? Well, that time Akashi had been the one to approach me and it was new for me; I was puzzled and curious and found myself glancing at him more often, during practice. He noticed me, of course he would, and whenever he caught me he would give this small smile, or nod in my direction, or do some small talk, if he was close enough. He was just… that good at reading people, and that good to charm them, but in the purest of ways. I know it’s hard to believe after the kind of first meeting you had, but he didn’t have any malice at the time. That was just… the way he was. I didn’t understand it for a long time, but in those days he was probably unconsciously looking for a friend just as much as I did, though neither of us knew how to express that necessity clearly. He managed to reach me by acting as if you would when taming a wild animal, with calculated patience and comfortable distance. I let him in because at that time I was still naive enough to place my trust in others unconditionally. He never abused that trust and that was how I knew we were the closest thing to friends we could be with our respective backgrounds.

Kazunari swallowed. He was starting to regret his choice. Shintarou squeezed his hand and went on.

-          We shared interests, our families were similar in their beliefs and education, we played together a sport that was both our pride and our salvation and we were thirteen… we got close. It’s as simple as that. He was always able to tell what was on my mind and in exchange he confided me things that would havenever left his mouth, otherwise. I was glad he was there to give me advice when I needed it, but I was even more glad to be the one he would have looked for for a word of comfort or a second opinion. That’s why it hurt so much when he stopped being himself: the signs had been there for some time, I had seen them and he’d grown distant, but I had nobody else to turn to. When everything crumbled, I was not prepared at all and in the end I was not able to do anything for him. Perhaps I failed him more than anybody else…

Kazunari asks, then, because he’s tired of hearing Shintarou dance around the topic (that’s not exactly fair, Shintarou’s honestly –and thoroughly- answering a question he has asked, and Kazunari should be glad,but that’s the effect that Akashi, or better, Akashi’s presence in Shintarou’s life, has on him):

-          Were you in love with him?

Shintarou closes his eyes with a pained expression, at that, and falls silent. Kazunari doesn’t realy need an answer, not when it’s written so clearly all over Shintarou’s face, half-lidded eyes lost in a past he’d convinced himself to have forgotten.

-          Yes, I think I was.

It doesn’t hurt any less, though. It’s Kazunari’s turn to close his eyes, but in his case it’s survival instinct, because if he loses it and cries, now, he’ll never forgive himself. It shouldn’t hurt this much, of that he’s persuaded, and it doesn’t make sense, but he can’t help it.

Shintarou goes on, because he never leaves a job half-done and he’s not finished answering Kazunari’s questions. Or ripping Kazunari’s heart to shreds, which may be the same thing, at this point (again, Kazunari knows that he’s not being fair at all, but he’s far beyond caring anyway).

-          It was hard not be infatuated with him. Everyone was, up to a point. But it wasn’t that… it’s hard to explain it after all these years… we had each other. Whenever the pressure on his shoulders felt heavier, he locked himself in our meeting room, knowing I was the only one to have a spare key. Whenever my insecurities stroke, I waited for hima t the shogi board. It was a haven of some sort, it was the one strong connection we had in our respective lives. Had you been lonely, pr rejected, until that point, wouldn’t you have fallen in love as well? Just a little bit?

The vitriol isn’t intended, but Kazunari does nothing to prevent it:

-          How long?

Shintarou lifts his gaze, questioning. Kazunari snarls:

-          How long did it last?

Shintarou doesn’t even blink, but Kazunari can clearly see the pain shimmer behind his eyes:

-          It never started. We kissed in the music room at lunch break. Once. The day after that, Murasakibara picked the fight that changed Akashi for good. That was it.

Kazunari knows very well he’s being unreasonable, but he feels so mad he couldn’t care less.

-          The night we got together you told me it was the first time!

-          Because it was. I’d never made out with anyone. I hadn’t even _hugged_ anyone like that, before.

-          Yet you forgot to mention you’d snogged _Akashi_ of all people…!

He’s raising his voice and doesn’t like where the conversation is going but the anger, hurt and jealousy have had the best on him. Shintarou’s voice is still calm, though there’s a dark shadow behind his eyes.

-          You didn’t tell me anything about your flings for a long time, as well.

His name had been Yuki, but perhaps it wasn’t even the real one. Kazunari had met him during the summer break in his third year, when - after the Inter High – he’d gone on vacation with his family for a week: seven days at his aunt’s house near the beach. Yuki was older than him, they’d both felt randy and hormonal, and by the time he’d come home, Kazunari had been perfectly educated in the joys of gay sex. He’d never seen or heard from Yuki again and it was fine that way.

-          It’s not the same! That was a stupid adventure without strings attached. We weren’t even together at the time.

-          And you are getting mad over a childish peck on the lips that happened between me and my best friend in middle school.

-          You were in love with him!

-          And by the time we played against your team in third year, it was already over and one-sided.

-          I’ve never heard from Yuki again, I cut ties with everyone I’ve dated. You talk to each other every week!

-          Because we are friends. You go out with your friends all the time.

-          Not with the ones I snogged or was in love with!

-          That’s not fair at all, I-

Shintarou’s phone buzzes between them, and in the darkness of the room, the name flashing on the display is blinding in more than a sense: Akashi has always had this goddamn sense of timing…

-          …where are you going?

By the time Shintarou jerks up in a sitting position, Kazunari’s already put on his jeans and thrown on a hoodie he picked from the floor. He collects his small shoulder bag on the way to the main door, jerking his arm back with too much violence when Shintarou makes to grab him, although with a not so strong grip. Shintarou stumbles backwords for a couple of steps and when he reaches the hallway, he freezes as Kazunari hops into his sneakers, without tying them, and opens the door. His voice is weak and wobbly and Kazunari shields his heart against Shintarou’s face, lost in confusion, broken by pain and pale in sheer panic.

-          Where are you going?

-          Out.

-          But it’s raining, tak-

Kazunari deals the final blow with cold calculation, and though he knows that it’s too much, that he’s gone too far, there’s a cruel satisfaction in looking at Shintarou’s face crumbling and give back some of the pain he’s put Kazunari through.

-          I don’t want to _stay_ with you any longer, right now.

Kazunari storms off the house and slams the door behind himself.

 

*

 

Shintarou doesn’t know how long he stands in the hallway, staring at the closed door without really seeing it, a heavy numbness in his bones, muscles and mind. A loud thunder shakes him and he gasps audibly, leaning on the wall behind him and sliding to the floor, shaking.

_Kazunari’s gone._

 

*

 

Despite the thunders, the rain has stopped, which is lucky, because Kazunari hasn’t bothered with an umbrella, he’s not even sure he own one in the first place. He walks with a brisk pace without even bothering to look in front of him: he doesn’t really have a destination, just too much anger and frustration (and a bit of guilt too) to vent out. He lets the damp air soak him in coldness and keeps walking.

 

*

 

More than a hour later, Shintarou’s seated at their battered, cheap, square table, in front of a cup of cold tea he has never had intention to drink and the phone he’s retrieved from the bedroom, which has been awfully silent since then. He holds his head in his palms, trying in vain to calm down; his stomach clenches painfully for the uptenth time since Kazunari has left the house and again he rushes to the the bathroom, kneeling at the toilet with practiced gestures; he throws up bile, because at this point that’s the only thing left inside him. He wobbles his way back to the living room, grabbing the phone and tossing it into the low coffee table in front of the couch. The screen is dark.

The rational part of him, the one that still has a grasp on what has actually happened, is rightfully angry at Kazunari and his uncalled for outburst. Shintarou has never looked at another person since Kazunari entered his life, he’s never thought of anybody else since long before they got together. He has very few friends, that he meets rarely, due to his busy routine: more often than not, he turns the study group down in favour of coming home earlier and spent a couple of hours more in Kazunari’s proximity, and his former teammates from Teikou have their own live sas well, so it’s not that easy or frequent for them to meet. He honestly thinks there’s nothing ineherently wrong in spending an hour or two a week playing online games and catching up with what he could consider his best friend, not when Kazunari’s own schedule often includes an evening at the bar nearby with some friends from his same courses. Shintarou doesn’t have to explain himself when it’s clear that Kazunari’s the only man he’s ever had, the one constant in his life and the only person that fills his thoughts at every hour. He’s furious because he has _told_ Kazunari all these things, not an easy task for him, and yet the only one Kazunari chose to pay attention to was the quiet confession of something utterly platonic happened a life before they even _met_.

The rational part of him is laso mad at Shintarou himself, because he should have known better than answering those questions, since he knew perfectly well the effect it would have had on Kazunari…

Kazunari that fails to see how kissing Akashi in a sunbathed music room, a chaste touch of lips between two scared thirteen years old boys, had marked the _end_ of their happy times at Teikou and sealed all those precious memories in their hearts before the world crumbled beneath their feet – while holding Kazunari in his arms in that cold attic had been the _start_ of something so very different…

Kazunari that has runa way from him in unjustified jealousy and confusion.

Kazunari that is tired of his weirdness and complications and inability to express his feelings properly.

Kazunari that has left, saying he didn’t want to stay any longer.

 

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until his vision blurries. Shintarou curls up on the couch unable to restrain himself. His hands itch for the phone, the need to call the one person that he’s sure would pick up after the first ring overwhelming. He stops right before dialing Akashi’s number, knows that he’s acting against himself in doing so and throws the phone on the other side of the room, where he can’t pick it up – hating himself for letting _Kazunari_ have that much power over him.

 

*

 

Kazunari stops walking when he’s dreadfully cold and his feet ache. He’s in a neighbourhood he doesn’t recognize, doesn’t know how much time has passed and can’t bring himself to check either of those things. It even seems he’s left his phone home, so it’s not like he has the chance to, anyway. He spots a sheltered staircase between two shops and is tempted to drop on one of the steps and hug his knees until he’s calmed; he crosses the road instead, and wanders on the sidewalk looking at his feet, so that he’s not able to see the change of scenery and to realize where exactly his legs have broguth him until it’s too late.

He lifts his eyes to Teikou Middle School, its motto engraved on the columns beside the gate. Kazunari walks around the building and is able to see the gym and the outdoor court. There are basketball hoops that have seen better days and Kazunari knows withou a doubt that they’re the ones Shintarou practiced with in summer. He eyes the windows above the gym, wondering which one belongs to the music room, where Akashi took Shintarou for himself the frist time.

He’s not fair. He knows it. His thoughts are offensive and biaised and tainted with feelings he really shouldn’t be supposed to have. He knows Shintarou loves him, can see it in every gesture and hear it in every word they share. He knows there’s nothing between his lover and Akashi (an evil voice at the back of his mind whispering “…yet”) and he knows he’s better than that, but he can’t help his insecurities to take the best part of him, in this case.

He watches the Teikou building and sees the signs of time on the pristine school. There’s a bit of rust on the enclosure net, the grass needs more tending, the ground is not even. The plaque at the door isn’t shining anymore and the flag with the school’s colours is tearing at the end.

It dawns on Kazunari, then: it’s in the past.

No matter how much the memories from Teikou still haunt Shintarou’s mind and his friend’s lives, that’s just what they are: memories. They’ve shaped them, turned them into who they are now, changed them for the worse and for the better, tied them for a long time and now, finally, they’ve taken their rightdul place of harmless memories. It’s been so long since the time Kazunari has been crushed by their force, so long since Shintarou spent his afternoons with Akashi, learning what friendship and affection felt like, so long since the reality of teikou crushed their hearts, so long since they’ve all fixed themselves and helped each other getting up again.

It’s pointless to hold grudges against Akashi for having been the first to touch Shintarou’s heart, when that Akashi and that Shintarou don’t exist anymore: they’re still recognizable in the fine men they’ve both become, so much that they still click together very well and are an important part of each other’s life, buti t would be so wrong to reduce them to only that.

Kazunari thinks of Shintarou and sees a hundred of tiny features that weren’t there when he met him, that Shintarou has picked up through the years thanks to him and many other people. He thinks of the Akashi he faced at their first Winter Cup, already so different from the one Shintarou had kissed once, and has trouble to associate him fully with the one he knows now.

Perhaps he’s starting to get it.

Kazunari turns on his heels and runs home as fast as he can.

 

*

 

When Kazunari opens the door, he’s welcomed by darkness and an extremely heavy air. His clothes cling to his frame as sweats dries and he’s sure he’ll wake up to the worst cold of the last three years, tomorrow, but he’ll face that problem when it comes. He doesn’t call for Shintarou, fears raising his voice in that pregnant, static silence. He takes his shoes off and pads clumsily in the house, looking for his lover anyway. There’s barely no light but he can still make out the shape of a body curled under a duvet on one side of the couch.

Walking towards him, Kazunari almost steps on Shintarou’s phone, still askew on the floor: he picks it up, noticing with a wince that the notification for Akashi’s missed call is still on the front screen, as if Shintarou hasn’t touched his phone at all, since then. Kazunari puts the device on the coffee table and kneels beside Shintarou’s head: he’s sleeping, as Kazunari supposed, but the expression on his face is tense and pained and Kazunari’s heart clenches at the sight. He rests his forehead on the edge of the sofa cushion and tries to put some words together. Before he can, he hears an intake of breath and a husky whisper:

-          Kazu…!

It’s the kind of voice that comes after spending hours without speaking, throat tight from sleep (and Kazunari doesn’t want to know what else). He forces himself to lift his head and look Shintarou in the eyes, though he knows perfectly well what he’ll find there and it makes him sick. He does anyway, because he’s done being a coward and has to face the consequences of his own stupidity: he looks at Shintarou and nearly sobs at the redness of his orbs, the puffiness and the dry tear-tracks on his cheekbones.

-          You’re back...! I’m sor-

He looses it at the offered apology and sobs for real, placing his cold fingers on Shintarou’s lips (and just how warm he is) to stop him from making a mistake. Kazunari has to speak, and his voice is far less steady than he’d like:

-          Don’t. Please, don’t. Don’t say you’re sorry. I am the one at fault here. I am the one that hurt you. I am the one that should be sorry. And I am. And you have every right to be angry at me.

Shintarou props himself up on one elbow: his first instinct would be to wrap his arms around Kazunari and never let go, but he recognizes there’s something more important at stake, here.

-          Yes. I’m not… extremely happy with you, right now. But I’m so relieved that you’re back! You left your phone here, I went out and searched the neighbourhood but I couldn’t find you anywhere and it was so cold… I was worried sick.

-          I’m sorry.

Shintarou slides on the floor beside him and wraps his blanket over Kazunari’s shoulders.

-          You’re freezing cold. Come, I’ll prepare you a bath.

Kazunari grabs his wrist and holds it gently, bottom lip wobbly.

-          I am the one that brought up the matter in the first place. You were trying to be as honest as possible to help me understand, as I expressively asked you to, and I wasn’t able to listen to your words in an objective way. I have overreacted because of my own fears and insecurities and I ended up hurting you much more than you hurt me. I shouldn’t have said any of those horrible things and I’m sorry.

Shintarou swallows, because from the trembling in Kazunari’s voice he understands they’re probably close to sort the matter once for all. Before he can ask, Kazunari goes on, looking at the floor.

-          I have never doubed your feelings for me, Shintarou. How can I, when you make them so clear everyday? But I’m scared to death by the thought that if Akashi knocked at our door one day and asked you back, those feelings won’t be enough for you to refuse him.

It’s a slap on Shintarou’s face. Or maybe a stab in the back, judging from his expression. Also, this is exactly what Shintarou means when he tells Kazunari that he doesn’t understand: because there is no way that Akashi could threat their relationship in such a way, because that’s not the kind of relationship they have, that’s not what they are to each other and Akashi has stopped holding that kind of power over people a long time ago. At least over people he cares for. Hell, Shintarou isn’t even sure where exactly Akashi fits on the spectrum, because such trivial, human matters always seem so pointless in his case…

For the sake of this relationship, though, Shintarou compromises and take Kazunari’s face in his hands.

-          Why should I be willing to throw away what makes me happiest every day for something I’m not even sure I wanted?

Kazunari covers his hands with his own but still refuses to look at him.

-          Because you have huge history together, a bond that’s lasted years and lots of strong feelings. Because you care for each other and are protective of each other and share everything. Because you are good together. Because he’s impeccable in everything he does and it’s the closest to perfection mankind has ever gone and what reason would you have to not want that?

Perhaps Kazunari has indeed grasped the matter more than Shintarou had given him credit for, but the answer to his desperate question, one dictated by fear more than jealousy and anger, sound almost silly in his simplicity.

-          What reason do you have to eat that smelly excuse for a meal when you could have a gourmet meal at your favourite restaurant?

-          Because I love kimchi, ok!? …oh. Shin-chan, are you calling me a smelly bowl of kimchi?

-          I am calling you my favourite thing. The one I’d never give up.

Kazunari shivers and they both know he’s one step forward in believing him for good. Shintarou catches the clattering of his teeth, though, and picks him up without warning, blanket and all.

-          Let’s put you in a hot tub.

Kazunari latches onto his neck, not really finished yet.

-          Come with me. Please.

 

*

 

-          I feel like that all the time, you know.

The only reason Shintarou’s able to confess this is that they’re back to chest in the small tub and he can’t see Kazunari’s face at all.

-          How?

-          Like one day a nameless stranger much more easy to get along with and of far lower maintenance will appear in your life and you’ll see just how tired of me you’ve become and how lighter your life would be if I just… wasn’t part of it anymore.

Kazunari turns around swiftly, water splashing on the bathroom floor.

-          What are you talking about!? I love you!

-          I know. And so do I. But that’s what my insecurities tell me.

-          It’s not the same thing!

Shintarou just stares at him and Kazunari pales because, damn, it is the same thing. Quietly, he turns again and wraps Shintarou’s arms around himself, holding onto them tightly. Shintarou speaks in a husky voice into his hair.

-          Please, don’t ask me to give up on the one good friend I have. I would, for you, and it wouldn’t be fair.

Kazunari thinks of the untouched phone he’s found on the floor, of Shintarou’s face when he focuses on the virtual shogi board and mutter small talk through the mic in the middle of the game, of the genuine contentment when Akashi shares good news. Then he thinks of Shintarou’s smile every time he comes home after a long day, the light in his eyes when he greets Kazunari, the casual touches, the domestic routines, the intimate secrets that are theirs and theirs alone.

He sinks lower in the bathtub and nods.

 

*

 

Afterwards, when they’ve cleaned up the bathroom, made dinner together and eaten holding hands, after Shintarou has made Kazunari promise not to pull a stunt like that ever again and Kazunari has sincerely apologized for worrying him like that (and he means it), when they’re moving to the couch to cuddle a bit in front of whatever movie it’s on tv, Kazunari picks up Shintarou’s phone and selects the last missed call.

He offers the phone to Shintarou, who looks back at him, puzzled.

-          He’ll get worried if you don’t send at least a text. Call him. Tell him I say hi.

Shintarou takes the phone and kisses him; Kazunari starts to move towards the kitchen, but Shintarou squeezes his hand.

-          Stay, if you want.

He smiles softly, then, and settles in Shintarou’s arms, instead, listening absent-mindedly at the conversation.

He’s still far from liking the guy: there’s something in the way he speaks that gets at Kazunari’s self control (and he’s not yet ovet the whole ‘absolute’ thing, not to mention the fact that the possibility of Akashi knowing everything, always, makes his skin crawl), but as minutes pass and he pays attention to their exchange, he can’t help but feel a bit more sure of himself, and a little less afraid. On an inexplicable whim, when the conversation turns to a topic he can relate to and the tone is playful enough, he even makes Shintarou lower the phone towards him, so he can give his two cents about the matter, and it surprises him to see how easy it is, how comfortable he feels, how smooth it goes – for several minutes, he’s actually too focused on how much he _didn’t_ feel threatened by Akashi’s fine voice that he doesn’t even notice when the call ends and the the phone is discarded once again.

Until the kissing starts, of course.

                                                                         


End file.
